CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE – FINN #2
I loosen my hold on her so I can move the covers back, and we slowly untangle from one another. Hattie crawls under them sluggishly, and I stand up to kick off my shoes. She burrows beneath the covers and watches me as I strip from my clothes and change into something more comfortable.
Her eyes are still a little glassy, but she’s behind them now. There’s a brightness that wasn’t there before and thank God for that.
For a moment, I truly feared I would never see her spark again.
I slip into the bed next to her and open my arms. She shuffles into my body, moving her head so I can slide my arm under her neck.
Our legs entwine, her toes getting momentarily caught in the sheets before she frees them, and I hold her tightly against me, making sure to tuck the covers in as if I’m wrapping her up in bubble wrap.
“Thank you.” Her words are but a murmur against my bare chest, and she snakes her arm around to my back, hugging me tightly.
I reply with a silent kiss to the top of her head.
She doesn’t need to thank me, but she’s going to. I could say it a thousand times, but she’d still do it. Whatever she’s been told, whatever she’s been conditioned into believing… it can’t be undone overnight.
As much as I wish it were different.
All I can do is be here. Hold her. Rub her back, stroke her hair, ride through these rougher patches with her. As long as she knows she isn’t alone, then I’m doing something right.
Even when it doesn’t feel like enough.
Because it doesn’t.
I want to take it away. I want to reach inside her and rip away every bit of anxiety, every flash of panic, every last bad memory that consumes her so deeply.
If I could steal it from her so that she didn’t have to deal it anymore, I would.
In a heartbeat. Without a second thought.
I would live with it just so she doesn’t have to.
How cruel it is that I can’t.
I glide my fingers through her hair, staring aimlessly at a spot on the other side of the room. I have no idea how long we stay like this. It doesn’t matter. As long as she’s calm. As long as she feels safe. I’ll stay here for days if that’s what she needs me to do.
“People… can be overwhelming.” Hattie’s small voice fills the tiny space between us. “Arguments even more so.”
I say nothing.
Something tells me that if I speak, she’ll stop.
“I’ve never seen my father like that. I’m not a fool. I knew what I was doing would enrage him. It was the whole point, after all. To hurt them.”
Maybe so.
That doesn’t mean her choices can’t hurt her, either.
“I knew he’d choose them over me when it came to it, but shit.
” She finishes her sentence on a whisper.
“I thought he might at least pretend. I didn’t think he’d outright come after me to berate me.
I thought he might force them to get on with it.
He did that with me. When Jasmine crashed her car into the DeLaurentis guy’s and injured his girlfriend and forced me to take the blame, I was told to suck it up.
To hand over my licence and get over it. ”
Fuck.
I’d suspected they’d scapegoated her, but to hear it…
I close my eyes in a desperate attempt to keep my rage down. I don’t want to hear more. No—I do. I want to know. I want to know what those bastards have put her through since she came home two years ago, but I don’t.
“They acted like they were doing me a favour,” she continues.
“Like it was my fault the whole time. When Jasmine damaged a dress that had been delivered for a fitting and decided she didn’t want it, they blamed me.
They got a heads up about every negative thing going to be put to press for Jasmine, and they always wheedled their way out of it by blaming me.
They even had people photoshop pictures to make her blonde so I could take the fall.
I’ve been a dangerous driver, a drunken floozy, a rude diner.
I’ve taken the blame for her so, so many times, and I had to be grateful that they never used my name.
And yes, I was wrong to go behind their backs and ask you to marry me.
I know it was objectively wrong to keep it a secret until the moment we were presented, but it’s the only thing I’ve ever done wrong. And still, it’s my fault.”
I swallow.
All those things.
All those fucking things they made her do.
“Just once. Just once, I wanted my father to choose me. Even if it was only because he’d look bad otherwise. But it still wasn’t enough. I still wasn’t enough.” Her voice is thicker now, like she’s trying to hold back tears.
It takes everything within me not to move, not to speak, to let her truly finish what’s in her heart.
“It’s ridiculous because I did all this. I did all this knowing exactly what would happen, so why am I bothered by it?”
“Because you’re human, Hattie.”
She pauses. “But—”
“You’re human, and you aren’t perfect. You can hurt people and be hurt at the same time.
You can make decisions that are right for you and wrong for everyone else, know that, and still be upset when things work out exactly the way you knew they would.
You’re not wrong for hoping for a different outcome. ”
She tilts her head back, pressing her face into my neck. “I feel so stupid. I just… I just wanted to be enough, just once.”
“You are.” I hold her tighter. “You’re enough for me.”
“No, you’re…” She trails off, shaking her head.
“I’m what?”
“Never mind.” She whispers the words, and I feel it—this is the moment she curls back in on herself, withdrawing from the conversation, wrapping herself in her usual armour.
I’m an idiot.
I never should have said anything.
“Okay. I’ll be here when you’re ready to tell me.” I kiss the top of her head.
Her hand twitches against my back, and she presses her body against mine a little more. “Finn?”
“Mm? What is it?”
“I…” She pauses. “I want you inside me.”
Fuck.
“You just had a panic attack,” I murmur, even as desire bolts through my body, pooling in my cock. “Are you sure?”
“Not like sex,” she whispers. “Just… hold it there.”
I blink. “Like a really close cuddle?”
“Yeah.” Her voice is small again. “I want to be close to you.”
No kidding.
It’s the only way she can get any closer to me short of cutting me open and crawling inside my skin.
“Are you sure?”
She tilts her head right back, meets my gaze, and nods. “Please.”
A groan bubbles up in my throat, and I bring my lips down to hers.
She responds almost feverishly, taking control of my intended gentle kiss and flicking her tongue against my mouth.
I part my lips, allowing my tongue to meet hers.
She flexes her body against me and lightly drags her nails down my back, and her willingness to take me, despite it being for comfort as opposed to arousal, doesn’t make a difference to my body.
I react to her in an instant. My cock hardens, swelling against my underwear. I slide my hand down her body and under her nightshirt, then slip it beneath her knickers. She responds to my touch by angling her hips, and I reach my fingers between her legs.
She’s wet.
She’s so ready for me. I want to tease her, to run my fingers through her wet slit, to push them inside her and curl them in the way I’ve learnt she likes. I want to bring her to the brink and watch her tumble over the edge in the way she does so beautifully, but I stop myself.
That’s what I want.
Not what she wants.
“Roll over,” I whisper, withdrawing my hand from her underwear.
She extracts herself from the tangle that is our bodies and rolls over, pressing her back against my front. I tug down my pyjamas and boxers to free my cock, then reach between her legs to tuck her underwear to the side.
I grab my cock and guide it between her legs, rubbing the tip of it through her wetness. She parts her legs, raising the top one, and I shift back so I can enter her at the right angle.
Then, slowly, I push inside her.
Her pussy tightens around me, and I clench my jaw. This feeling is still so new, the sensations still so heady that I could come in a moment if I don’t focus on something else.
“Don’t. Don’t squeeze,” I say roughly. “If you do…”
Hattie stills. “I can’t help it sometimes. Why?”
“I’m going to come,” I murmur against her upper back, closing my eyes against the soft cotton. “Your pussy feels so fucking good.”
She draws in a breath. “Is that a bad thing?”
“No. But, yes—it is when you just want me inside you. Give me a second.” I take a few deep breaths, holding them at the top, and wait for that edge of release to settle and pass me by.
She doesn’t move, as if she’s afraid any little twitch will make me blow.
She should be.
It was a very real fucking possibility for a moment there.
“Okay.” I run my hand down her thigh for her to lower her leg. “Get comfy.”
A small, low laugh escapes her, and her whole body shakes against mine.
“Harriet…”
“Sorry. Sorry.” She presses her back against my chest as I slide one of my legs between hers. “Is this okay for you?”
“Mm. Don’t worry about me.” I kiss the tender spot behind her ear. “Are you comfortable?”
“Yes. Thank you.” She grabs my hand under the sheets, links her fingers through mine, and brings our clasped hands up to her chest. After a couple of adjustments, she settles.
Her pussy occasionally lightly twitches around my cock, even as her breathing becomes shallower. Her body relaxes, getting heavier, and I feel almost the exact moment she gives over to her exhaustion.
Without me moving.
She’s asleep.
With my cock inside her.
Fuck.
That turns me on more than it should, and I turn my face into her sweet-smelling hair to get myself under control.
If only she knew what she did to me.
If only this crazy, vindictive, broken woman had any idea just how addicted to her I was becoming, she’d never doubt her worth again.
And by fuck, I’m going to make sure that happens. I’m going to make sure she knows.
I won’t stop until she realises just how completely she’s taking over my life.